


Easy Money

by CC (ccwriter)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Dialogue-Only, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-29
Updated: 2002-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccwriter/pseuds/CC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smidgen of pillow talk and a bet Hutch knows he can win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Money

"I could do it, you know."

"No. You couldn't.

"Sure I could. Ain't saying it'd be easy, but I could do it."

"Starsky, you --of all people – could not go a month without sex."

"Me of all people...the heck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know what I'm talking about, that's what it means."

"You say that like you know something about me that I don't know."

"Starsk, think about it. You get hard if you see me bend over to get a casserole out of the oven. Not to mention when you see me taking a shower. Or if I exhale anywhere in your direction when I'm asleep. Or if I – ow! Keep your elbows to yourself."

"Stop. Makes me sound like some kind of sex maniac."

"Well, in a way you are. But it's one of the things I love about you. You've got this incredible drive. You're like a Timex watch: takes a licking – keeps on ticking. Or that suitcase they throw all over the airport in that commercial. Where you going? Roll back over. I'm not through."

"No I won't and yes, you are. And if you keep comparing me to cheap watches and luggage, we'll be going longer than a month without sex."

"Starsk, we're not going a month without sex. We're just talking about going a month without sex. Right?"

"Whatever you say, Hutch. Whatever you say. Now will you please get your hand off my hip? I'm tryin' to go back to sleep and it'd be easier if you weren't pawin' all over me."

"We're not done with this yet. Open your eyes."

"Can't sleep with my eyes open. And I asked you to get your meaty paw off of me."

"You weren't calling it a meaty paw last night."

"Last night was a long time ago."

"I see what you mean, though. Now that I look at it in the daylight, I see how my hands could be perceived by some as being meaty. They do seem to have gotten bigger since I started working with the weights again. And I've got a much better grip now. Look, I'll show you. Where's the flashlight? How'd it get down there? Look, Starsk. Watch how the tendons flex when I grip the flashlight. See? Slide the switch up, slide the switch down, slide the switch up, slide – Oh, I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"No, just a cough. I might be catching a cold."

"Your face does look flushed. Why don't you just rest?"

"'S what I'm trying to do here if you'd stop yammerin'."

"Where was I? Oh, look at this, Starsk. You know how a lot of guys who work with weights get all muscle bound? Can't even make a fist? See how even though my hands have gotten stronger – meatier, to use your expression – my fingers remain slender and nimble? See how flexible my fingers are? Probably stay that way because they're so long. The middle ones especially. Open your eyes, Starsk. Look at the extension when I crook it like that— Hey, where are you going? Get back."

"Hutch, I know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work."

"What am I trying to do? I'm just talking, Starsk, that's all. Just carrying on a conversation."

"No, you're trying to make some stupid point about me being a sex maniac."

"I never said you were a sex maniac. Well, I did, but I meant it as a compliment."

"Look, Hutch, if I'm gonna do this, you can't be talking dirty like that."

"Talking dirty how? I was just describing my hands, you know, how much stronger they feel. You were the one who brought it up."

"Yeah, but I didn't say nothing about flashlights or fingers."

"All right, I won't talk about my fingers. But they really are flexible, see?"

"Hutch, just shut up. I'm doing this and there's gonna be some rules."

"Starsky, you are not doing this. You can't do this."

"Care to make it interesting?"

"None of this is remotely interesting, so the answer is no. Besides, I'd be stupid to make a bet like that."

"You know I can do it, don't you?"

"No, dummy, if you succeed in going a month without sex – which you can't do, but for the sake of argument, let's say you do – where was I? Oh, yeah. See, if you go a month without sex, then I go a month without sex. Why would I bet on that?"

"Oh."

"On the other hand – oops, excuse my language. Another way of looking at it -- from my point of view at least -- is that it would be really easy money."

"You really think I can't do it."

"Starsk, I don't think you can't do it, I know you can't do it."

"What would you bet I couldn't do it?"

"I wouldn't make that bet."

"I'd bet my Lynyrd Skynyrd album."

"No shit? Your Skynyrd album?"

"Yeah, I'm that sure I could do it. I'll pick your bet."

"I'm not betting."

"You bet no more of that tofu shit showing up where it don't belong."

"Starsky, I'm not betting."

"Too late, you already did."

"I didn't bet; you did."

"Tough, here are the rules. No touching me, no kissing me, no breathing on me. I won't be touching you either, so don't go getting pissed off about it."

"Not even one kiss? Don't you think that's a little strict? I really do need to kiss you every once in a while."

"Okay. Maybe just a real quick kiss in the morning. And right before we go to sleep. But that's it. Two-second limit. No tongues."

"What about weekends when we're here all day? It's gonna make for some awful long days, Starsk."

"Okay. On weekends, one quick kiss after lunch. Same limits. "

"Those are the rules? All of them?"

"Yeah, and I have to say you're taking this better than I thought you would."

"Well, I have to give you credit, buddy. This isn't going to be easy, you know."

"I know. But I'm not a sex maniac. I can do this."

"And I'll be right here to help you, Starsk."

"Thank you. It's nice to finally have your support."

"Hey, Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

"You're probably going to need some more rules, though."

"Like what?"

"Well, you can't be coming into the kitchen while I'm cooking. I mean, I'm going to be bending over and stuff."

"Shut up."

"And you can't be running into the bathroom when I'm in the shower. You might accidentally see something that distracts you."

"I said shut up."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help like I said I would. But you're the one going without sex, not me. And there's going to be times when I have to take matters into my own hands – damn, sorry. I keep forgetting that `hand' is a dirty word now."

"I didn't say `hand' was a dirty word, Hutch."

"Oh, that's right. `Flashlight' and `fingers' are dirty words. Got it."

"If you mention your fuckin' fingers one more time, I'll kill you."

"Damn, I wish you hadn't said that."

"Said what?"

"Fucking fingers. Kind of put this image in my mind. Too bad you're celibate right now."

"This ain't no celebration and you can take your stupid fingers and shove `em up your ass."

"Well I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

"Have to what?"

"Shove my fingers up my ass. I'm sure it's against the rules to shove them up yours."

"I hate you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Hutch, what are you doing? You can't be touchin' yourself like that. It's against the rules."

"No, the rule was that I couldn't touch you and you couldn't touch me. You didn't say I couldn't touch myself. Now be quiet; I need to concentrate. Back up, I don't want to breathe on you by accident."

"I really hate you, Hutch."

"Be quiet. It's hard to concentrate with you yammering."

"You're an asshole and I hate you."

"Starsk, if you keep putting these images in my head, I'm going to need more hands."

"You're gonna pay for this."

"Move your hand another inch and you're gonna pay."

"I know."

"Starsky, you're breaking the rules."

"I coulda done it, you know."

"No, you couldn't."

"No, I couldn't."

"But you lasted a really long time. I'm proud of you."

"Shut up, Hutch. I need to concentrate."

*

The End


End file.
